


Not Okay

by astolat



Series: Captain America works [11]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Aliens Made Them Do It, Body Modification, Compost Heap Story, Consent Issues, M/M, Mind Control, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-08 18:38:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1951908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astolat/pseuds/astolat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Are we okay?” Steve said, a little anxiously. Sam dragged his eyes away from Lorelei and pulled him into a hug, laughing, and said, “Dude, don’t even,” while Lorelei smiled beneficently on them both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Okay

**Author's Note:**

> So the Sam/Steve [trash dumpster](http://astolat.tumblr.com/post/91696285293/feanorinleatherpants-dont-look-in-the-trash) may be more of an organic compost heap, but this is nevertheless the kind of story that goes in there? 
> 
> So, that is your warning, please heed it and the tags! With many thanks to Cesperanza for beta. 
> 
> Also, in case anyone else has Sam/Steve trash they would like to make available for rummaging-around, I have created [an open collection](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/compost_heap). :D?

Lorelei got really excited when Steve dragged Sam into her new throne room, up in Stark Tower. It wasn’t easy getting him there; Sam just wouldn’t listen when Steve tried to explain how amazing she was, how incredible it was just to serve her. After Sam had faked him out and almost managed to get him with a tranquilizer on the balcony, Steve had given up and just roped him down. “I’m sorry, buddy, but you’ll thank me later,” he said, getting Sam’s wrists tied, trying hard not to listen to Sam saying, “Steve — _Steve_ , Jesus, please don’t — ”

He kept on fighting every damn step of the way down the hall, but thankfully he calmed down as soon as he met her. Steve was struggling to haul him through the door, and then Sam’s whole body just relaxed all at once: Lorelei had come out and was standing over him, staring down with wide, shining eyes.

She knelt and cupped Sam’s face in her hands and breathed out, “Oh, _look_ at you.” Sam was staring up at her, dazzled. “Why, you might be kin to Heimdall himself; Steven, what a _treasure_ you have brought me,” and she looked up and smiled at him, too, so happy it made a guy feel good just to look at her, but Steve was almost too busy being glad that Sam was finally on board. He gratefully cut him loose and gave Sam a hand up.

“Are we okay?” Steve said, a little anxiously. Sam dragged his eyes away from Lorelei and pulled him into a hug, laughing, and said, “Dude, don’t even,” while Lorelei smiled beneficently on them both.

“Now, tell me of your powers,” she said, and Sam shrugged a little, wry. “I don’t know if you’d call them powers, exactly; I’m not a supersoldier or anything. Just got these,” and he stepped back to open up the wings.

“Oh,” she said, even more delighted, “why, how beautifully fitting: I am in need of a herald for my court. Although these are utterly unworthy,” she added, a little critically, touching one edge of the wings. Sam’s face fell a little, but she touched his cheek. “No, my lovely one, not _you_ ; but these crude constructions must go. Are you willing to endure pain to serve me?”

“As much as any man can take,” Sam said, and she smiled at him.

She did it that night, under the full moon: Tony put on the suit and helped Steve hold Sam’s shoulders down for it, while a couple of the SHIELD guys got his legs. Steve squeezed his eyes shut, sweating all over, his own stomach churning while Sam screamed. For a moment everything blurred, the world going suddenly sideways and horrible, until Lorelei reached out even in the middle of her chanting and touched his cheek. Her perfume rose into his nostrils, and Steve remembered this was what Sam wanted, that he would’ve done the same if she’d wanted him to, and been glad to be chosen for it. He held on, kept Sam pressed down as the wings exploded out of his back, unfolding: huge, powerful, feathers clotted and sticky with blood.

Sam was shivering hard underneath their hands, though, and his skin was going clammy and cold. “Sam,” Steve said desperately, leaning over him as Lorelei sank back into Tony’s arms, breathing hard herself. Sam wasn’t even making noise anymore. “Sam! Lorelei, I think we’re losing him—”

Lorelei was still lying back in the chaise Tony had helped her to. She muttered under her breath. “Curse the weakness of your pathetic mortal flesh,” she said, and struggled up. She lifted Sam’s head up from the altar with a hand: his eyes were shut, his mouth slack, and Steve stared at his face and everything cracked; he said, choked, “Oh my God, what have I _done_ ,” and he slugged Lorelei hard, knocking her staggering backwards.

Tony blasted him halfway across the terrace with the repulsors and shot after him, pinning him to the ground. “Hey, come on, Cap, buddy,” he said, his eyes wide and puzzled and _horrible_. Steve twisted and heaved him off, and threw himself back towards the altar. He had no idea how to get Sam out of here, nothing but desperation, but Lorelei surged back to her feet and caught him by the throat. She held him choking over Sam’s body and said low and savagely, “Do you want him to _die_? Stop distracting me,” and Steve shut his eyes and let her kiss him once, hard, on the mouth. Then everything was okay again, and Steve fell back gasping and relieved: of course Lorelei wasn’t going to let Sam die.

She turned back to Sam, frowning, and she tried a handful of things: stuff that looked like fairy-tale magic to Steve’s eyes, just glowing lights and smoke. None of it seemed to work, and Sam was going grey and still; finally she cursed again and then held out her hand. An apple appeared in it: shining and golden, with a small section removed; she took the knife from the ceremony and cut a paper-thin sliver out of the rest, barely a slice, and put it into Sam’s mouth.

A faint gleam of golden light ran over Sam’s body. The trickling blood stopped and a fine sheen of sweat broke out on his skin. The glossy black feathers shook themselves out and the wings both stretched up wide and enormous, glorious. Sam jerked and sat straight up, eyes wide, shocked; he stared at Lorelei with an expression of horror. “Jesus fucking Christ!” he said, reaching for his back, and she turned and snapped, “Hold him!”

Steve and Tony grabbed him just in time; Sam had nearly thrown himself off the balcony. He fought them all over again, wildly, the wings beating so furiously Steve could barely see: it was like being in a wind tunnel. But together he and Tony managed to drag him back into the Tower, and after they pinned him down on the floor, Lorelei bent over him, gripping his face and trying to hold him still while he twisted and fought, and finally she managed to kiss him long and deep; his struggles slowed and stopped, and finally he quit fighting and his head fell back, gasping.

“There,” she said, panting, sprawling back limply against the couch, her eyes half shut. “Oh, my darling ones, I’m so tired; and Steven,” she said reproachfully, lifting her head, “I am very disappointed in you.”

A hot flush stained his cheeks; he looked away. “I’m sorry,” he said, miserably. “I don’t know what got into me.”

“You’ll have to make it up to me,” she said. “Samuel, would you please carry me to my bedchamber?”

Sam blinked the last confusion out of his face and got up. “My pleasure,” he said already grinning, and picked her up; Steve jumped to get the door for him, a little wistful, and then Lorelei added, “Come along with us, Steven; I’ve decided how you’ll repay me.”

In the bedroom, Sam settled her on the huge bed. She relaxed back against the pillows, sighing, and said, “Now, then: I have earned some entertainment after this wretched evening. I want to watch as you use him for pleasure, Samuel. As brutally as possible. Steven, take off your clothing and offer yourself to him.”

Steve nodded. He stripped off his clothing and got on the bed, hands and knees. Sam was standing by the side of the bed, taking off his pants, and then he got on behind him. He lined up and started pushing in. Steve hissed a little against the pain, gritting his teeth, and braced for the rest, putting one hand up against the headboard to hold himself in place.

He peered around when nothing happened. Sam had stopped moving. He had his hands clenched tight on Steve’s hips. Steve could feel him trembling a little. “What are you waiting for?” Lorelei said, dangerously, half rising. “Are you _defying_ me?”

“I don’t — ” Sam said slowly. “I’m _hurting_ — ”

His face was twisting into a frown, and Lorelei hissed between her teeth in irritation. “I’m too tired for any more of this,” she said, and sank back against the pillows with a sulky curve to her mouth. “All right: give _him_ pleasure, too, if you can; I suppose I will be just as satisfied to see him moaning like a whore beneath your cock.”

Sam relaxed. “Let me see what I can do,” he said, and clapped Steve on the hips, letting go. “Come on and turn over.”

Steve did, flipping awkwardly over between his legs. “Hey,” he said, sorry; he hadn’t meant to get Sam in trouble. “I can handle it.”

Sam smiled at him; the worry in his face had smoothed out. “I think we can do better for her than that, don’t you?” he said, and tipped him back for a kiss, tongue teasing into his mouth. And that _was_ better, that was —oh, huh, and Sam made encouraging noises when Steve tentatively kissed back, and then Sam pushed him back flat and lay down on him, letting Steve take his full weight, and their bodies pressed all up against each other. Steve gasped out loud and gripped the sheets on either side, fighting down a ridiculous impulse to just start rubbing himself all over Sam’s body, because _oh_ , so much hot bare skin against his, and he wanted to feel it even more. His dick was getting hard, and it was pushed up against Sam’s hip, and that felt vaguely rude and also amazing. Sam’s hands were moving over his body just like he was taking possessive hold of Steve’s mouth, kissing him slow and deep.

Steve couldn’t help grabbing at Sam, wanting to get a grip on him so badly that he forgot to avoid the wings. Sam groaned softly and leaned into the accidental touch. “Oh, yeah,” he said, and Steve let his fingers slide into the incredible heat of the feathers. They felt silken, strong; the place where the wings met Sam’s body was smooth and unmarred. Steve couldn’t help running his hands all over them, still so desperately glad Sam was okay.

Sam was panting hard enough he couldn’t get his breath enough to keep kissing deep. He started giving Steve soft little kisses instead, nipping at his mouth. Steve followed them, trying to keep Sam’s mouth; he wanted more, selfishly. “Okay,” Sam said, “lie back and keep your hands to yourself a minute, damn,” and Steve fell back into the pillows and darted a look over at Lorelei, anxiously: wasn’t this supposed to be his _punishment_? But she was watching them heavy-lidded with a smile that only widened when Steve couldn’t help a gasp at the jolt of pleasure as Sam rubbed a couple of slick wet fingers against him.

“Just going to get you warmed up,” Sam told him. “Hang in there a minute.”

“Sure, okay,” Steve said, dazedly; he wasn’t really sure what Sam was talking about, because this was so good, Sam’s fingers working in and out of him, Sam’s body cradled between his legs. Lorelei wanted so many things that were hard, but this one was so _easy_ , and then finally Sam spread him wider and pushed into him, and _oh_ that’s what he’d meant, because this was beyond good, it was — “Oh,” Steve said, his voice cracking.

“Yeah?” Sam murmured, rocking gently back and forth, moving himself deeper in. “Relax for me, baby.”

“Sam,” Steve said, strangled. Sam was working into him, and everything was falling away, pleasure going off in sharp unexpected bursts with each twist of Sam’s hips. Steve dragged in a long breath and let go, his whole body relaxing completely, and Sam’s next stroke brought him in so deep and hard, “Oh, _God_ ,” Steve cried out — almost painful except it was so goddamn amazing, the closest thing he could ever remember feeling to that blinding moment coming out of the metal cocoon, the whole world spilling in on him too-bright and shocking and spectacular _._

“Steve?” Sam said, his voice straining and tight, and Steve said, “ _Yes_ ,” high and desperate through his teeth, his hand clamped on Sam’s shoulder.

“Oh, baby,” Sam said, hoarsely. “Steve, baby,” bending down to kiss him, a hand tender on his cheek, stroking him, and just that abruptly Steve was coming, gasping through it, clinging to Sam’s shoulders as he came apart between them.

“Oh,” Steve said. “Oh.” He was still shaking, little tremors running through him. Sam’s arms around him were easing him back limp onto the pillows.

Lorelei leaned over and deigned to stroke his hair off his forehead. “You _have_ escaped your punishment, haven’t you, my naughty one,” she said. “I hope at least you’ve learned your lesson. Do you see now how much better everything can be when you only obey, with none of this senseless fighting?”

“Yes,” Steve said dizzily, and kissed her wrist in apology. “Yes. I’m sorry, Lorelei, I’m so sorry, thank you, oh _God_ ,” and shuddered all over again.

“Take him again,” Lorelei told Sam, and Steve blushed hot all over, darting a half-guilty look at Sam. But he couldn’t help being glad she wanted more, glad he got to have more. “Yes?” he said to Sam, pleading.

Sam laughed deep and husky and nuzzled along Steve’s cheek, brushed a warm kiss over his mouth. He reached down and wrapped a warm firm grip around Steve’s cock. “Yeah, I’ve got you, don’t you worry. Hadn’t even let you go.”

He gave a short thrust with his hips, grinning down, and Steve fell back again with a gasped laugh. “Yes. Sam, _yes_.”

Lorelei pillowed herself comfortably again, looking pleased, but Steve almost forgot she was there; he couldn’t really think about anything except — Sam, moving on him, in him. Sam was braced over him, Steve’s legs hooked around his back, and he was deep all the way in, hips rolling through a steady rise and fall that just kept going, waves coming into shore, carrying Steve with them.

Sam was working hard, panting and dripping sweat, saying, “ _Damn_ , Steve,” his voice full of laughter. Steve couldn’t stop smiling back up at him, feeling almost drunk with happiness, and then Natasha’s voice was in his ear, whispering, and the world broke: “If you’re anywhere she can see you, don’t move, don’t act any different; this disruption will only work once. We’re getting into position: ETA five minutes,” she was saying, low and urgent, and in his arms Sam went suddenly frozen and still.

Steve couldn’t, he couldn’t, and then Sam was abruptly pulling his head in close, tucking Steve’s face against his shoulder and burying his own face in Steve’s skin, trembling. Steve shut his eyes, sick horror in his throat. They were both shaking. She was _right there_ , a monster not under the bed, and if she knew — Sam gripped him by the back of the neck, mouth against his ear, and breathed out, “Your call,” and Steve knew Sam would go with him, if he couldn’t bear it; they’d try to take her down together.

And if they failed, and she got a hold on them again, they’d tell her the others were loose. They’d tell her Natasha and her team were coming.

Steve panted three times more and turned his face against Sam’s cheek. “Keep going,” he whispered.

Sam nodded once, a tiny jerk against him. He started moving again, and oh God, it was still _good,_ and for a moment that was unbearable; then Sam suddenly caught him close and murmured, “Just us, Steve. Just you and me, okay?” and Steve shuddered and nodded, and turned to catch Sam’s mouth, desperately. Sam kissed him back, just as desperate. They moved together, stuttering jerks at first, and then smoothing out again.

“Take him more vigorously,” Lorelei said idly. She’d taken a peach out of the bowl next to the table and was eating it, licking dripping juice off her fingers, and Steve’s jaw clenched. “I want him to feel it properly.” Steve wanted to hit her, and wanted it at the same time.

“Anything you want,” Sam said softly, but he was looking down at Steve, intent. Sam’s wings were moving back and forth around them, almost a screen. He made it look like his hips were working rapid-fire, but really he was only making shallow thrusts, barely in and out. Steve couldn’t help but try to twist to meet them, try to take him deeper, but Sam managed to keep his hips easing out of reach. He bent down and nuzzled at Steve’s temple gently, blocking his view of Lorelei.

Sam kept making those teasing strokes, over and over. Want built up in Steve’s throat, little whining grunts escaping him, and then Natasha’s voice came again: “Steve, Sam, we know you’re in there. On my mark, get down and get under cover if you can’t get completely out of the room: we’re coming in fast and hot, twelve o’clock, staying high and middle. Three. Two. One. _Now._ ” Steve grabbed Sam and heaved them both off the bed in a single thump, down onto the side where he’d left the shield, covering Sam with his body. He caught the shield and pulled it over the back of his head as the doors exploded open and gunfire stuttered, Lorelei’s scream of rage echoing and horrible inside his head.

#

Steve was distantly grateful to have been rescued by Natasha, who got one look at them on the far side of the bed, turned back to the rest of her team, all female agents, and said, “Clear her out of here and secure the rest of the floor,” then said without looking back, “You’ve got the room,” and left them to get their clothes back on.

When they came out they found the rest of the guys all hunched around the living room with blank and sickened expressions; Tony was sobbing in a corner, on the phone with somebody who was with Pepper at the hospital, asking brokenly if she’d let him see her later. Steve shuddered hard all over, remembering Sam fighting him, begging him to let go; Sam lying on the altar. He looked away.

The medical team showed up as soon as Natasha gave the all-clear, doing their best but over their heads dealing with superheroes and spies who were fine physically and overwhelmed with horror. They mostly took blood samples, and turned them over to the half-dozen therapists Tony had grudgingly hired a few months ago on Sam’s insistence: they got pulled one by one into private rooms, offered a chance to talk and some books to read; the therapist said not to go to sleep for a while. “What, you want me to get it out of my head first?” Steve said; he almost laughed, incredulously, and walked out as soon as he could.

Sam was still in the middle of a swarm of doctors all looking over the wings doubtfully, enough X-rays and scans to fill a book pinned up all around them, talking in low voices about changes in his weight, his pulse rate, his blood pressure, while Sam sat on the exam table staring down at his own hands. He looked up and caught Steve’s eye across the room and said abruptly, “All right, we’re going to pick this up tomorrow.”

“But we need — ”

“ _Tomorrow_ ,” Sam said, with finality, and they backed off; he walked away from them and Steve fell into step with him, silently shoulder to shoulder. They left the med center and rode the elevator up to Steve’s floor, and as soon as the doors closed behind them Steve was turning, frantic, just as Sam reached for him, and they were grappling together.

They rutted wildly and clumsily up against the wall for a while, breathing in gulps that were almost sobbing. Steve slung an arm around Sam’s neck, pulling him in too hard, too much, except Sam was holding on to him just as hard, his hand around the back of Steve’s head, gripping him, kissing almost violently. Steve wanted, he wanted Sam back in him. He tried to brace hard against the wall, wrap his legs around Sam’s waist, and Sam managed to just barely hold him up, sweat making his fingers slide and slip on Steve’s thighs. They kissed and kissed, grinding together so hard it was almost painful, and oh, it was good, but it wasn’t _enough_.

They staggered into the living room and Steve threw himself on his stomach over the arm of the couch and Sam pushed back into him, careful, unbearably slow. “Now,” Steve said through his teeth. “Sam, _now._ ”

Sam groaned and started to move, to _fuck him_ , harder and harder, the pounding he hadn’t given him up in Lorelei’s room, and Steve gasped out cries and tore grips into the seat cushions with his bare hands, foam spilling out around him, pinned and speared open and oh _Christ_ , oh _fuck_ , everything, Sam — _Sam_ —

“Oh, God,” Steve said, when they finally quit: more a sincere prayer than a curse. He crawled the rest of the way onto the couch and sprawled face down into the pillows, shaking. He felt _so good_. He felt so good, and his thighs were wet and his ass _hurt_ and his back hurt and his head was pounding at the temples and he was happy and sick and he didn’t know whether to throw up or start laughing or cry.

“Yeah,” Sam said hoarsely. He had sunk down onto the floor and slumped sideways against the couch.

Steve managed to heave himself over onto his side to look at him. “Sam. Sam, are we — ” He stopped.

Sam just barely shook his head without lifting it. “Sorry, man, you’re going to have to finish that sentence on your own. I’m pretty much out for the count.”

“Are we okay?” Steve said desperately.

Sam didn’t move and then he slowly levered his head up to stare at him. “Are you kidding me? We were mind-controlled by an evil alien, I’ve grown a pair of fucking _wings_ , and we just ran away from the doctors to make it on your couch. We are _not_ okay. We need all the goddamn therapy in the world.”

“I mean — I mean us,” Steve said.

Sam stared some more, then gave a spurt of laughter and dropped his head back down. “I don’t know. You want to tally it up? How does raping you for the alien sorceress stack up against tying me down for her?” He shrugged a shoulder. One wing raised and lowered with the movement. “I guess we’d better call it even, otherwise we’re never going to figure it out.”

Steve shut his eyes in a rush of relief. “Okay.”

“‘Okay,’ the man says,” Sam muttered. “ _So_ much therapy. And you are going to come, and you’re going to _talk_ , too.”

“If you want me to,” Steve said. Far as he was concerned, he’d gotten the answer that really mattered. He hadn’t broken anything he couldn’t do without.

“And we’re not doing _this_ any more until we get our heads back on straight,” Sam added.

Steve didn’t even bother arguing. “Sure.”

“Goddammit,” Sam said, thumping his head against the couch.

They did it four more times that night and finally fell asleep tangled together in Steve's bed. Steve almost _had_ gotten it out of his mind by then, gone soft and blank with exhaustion and pleasure.

When morning came, he woke in the sunlight. Sam was in his arms, and they were lying beneath a living blanket of wings.

# End

**Author's Note:**

> All fb loved, here or [on tumblr](http://astolat.tumblr.com/post/91844030513/the-sam-steve-trash-dumpster-may-be-more-of-an)! <3


End file.
